


equilibrium

by wayvbabey



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, NCT 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:01:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26328301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wayvbabey/pseuds/wayvbabey
Summary: People are not born equal.TW // assault, mentions of death, death, funerals, swearing, violence, a bit of men grabbing women, knives
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Reader, Na Jaemin/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	equilibrium

**Author's Note:**

> ahhhh, this is something different but i hope you all enjoy!

_-_

People are not born equal.

It takes you a long time to realise this. The first time it happens, you are eight years old and watching a classmate show off his newly-emerged powers. He’s a late bloomer so everyone is supporting him as he moves a leaf from palm to palm, using only the wind he can now summon to do so while the teachers watch from a distance, ensuring nothing goes wrong.

You have no powers of your own. It hasn’t come as a surprise to you and, as you watch the boy with an open mouth, there is no jealousy in your heart, only wonder and amazement. Both your parents are ordinary humans so to you, school is a place of awe, a place where you can marvel at all the other kids. You can’t resist running towards the boy, wiggling in between the older children and trying not to get jostled around.

“Can you do a shoe or something?” You smile eagerly at him, ready to offer up your own as a test subject, but your idea is ignored and the kids pay you no attention. There’s no reason why they should; you can’t teleport like Minkyung or change your voice like Yeji.

But it still stings when they barely spare you a glance before walking away, giggling to themselves. It is especially painful because you are only eight and all you want to do is fit in.

You just want to play with them.

Big fat tears start to roll down your face and you begin to sob quietly.

“Why are you crying?” A young boy, smaller than you but with a big smile on his face, so wide you can see the gaps in his teeth, grins up at you. He’s in need of a haircut- his eyes are partially obscured by bangs but his eyes shine brightly. You’re drawn to them.

“I want to play with them,” you tell him sullenly, looking down at your feet, “but Dokyoon won’t let me. He played with me yesterday, but now he has his powers he won’t!”

“It’s okay!” The boy chirps, and he leans up to clumsily brush away a tear from your cheek. You see his finger headed towards your eye and jerk back, staring down at him cautiously, but his eyes still shine, holding no ill intent in them.

“You can play with me!” He’s still smiling, undeterred.

That piques your interest. “But what will we play?”

“Hmmm,” the boy thinks, looking around the playground. “How about we play by the trees! We can pretend we’re secret agents, hiding from people!”

Your tears stop instantly because you’ve never played _that_ game before. As you look over at the shaded area where the trees lie, you miss the way the boy scowls over at Dokyoon and his friends. It mars his features, turning them sour and dark, but they’re gone as soon as you turn back to face him.

“Okay,” you nod at him after thinking it over. “I will be agent Y/N, and you can be…?”

“Agent Jaemin, _Na_ Jaemin,” he nods seriously, making finger guns with his hands and looking around cautiously. “Now, let’s go!”

So you play secret agents with Jaemin all day and you have so much fun that when your father comes to pick you up in the afternoon you ask him if Jaemin can visit your house sometime. Your father, heavily invested in your school life, asks what has happened to Dokyoon, and laughs fondly when you explain that you don’t think you’re friends anymore.

“Give it a few days, Y/N. He’s just a little proud because he’s become a big boy now.”

And your father is right. The next day, Dokyoon approaches you shyly and asks if he can play with you. But by then your thoughts are consumed with thoughts of your new friend Jaemin, who has already spotted you from across the classroom and is eagerly making his way towards to you.

When Jaemin first visits your house, you are confused as to why he likes your bedroom so much. You are too young to understand why he thinks your video games are so amazing, but you let him play for as long as he likes. Your evening is spent screaming at each other while mashing buttons. He’s smaller than you, so whenever he gets ahead in the game you wrestle the controller out of his grip and Jaemin shrieks so loudly your sister comes in and shrieks at _you_ for being mean. Eventually your mother has to come in and temporarily ban you from playing due to fears of noise complaints, so you take Jaemin into your garden, where you resume the secret agent game he had created. 

“I wish I had superpowers,” Jaemin sighs to you once you’re both tired out and back playing video games. He’s busy trying to get lego Thor (his character) to beat up some superpowered boss, but is (unbeknownst to either of you) severely under-levelled, and so being beaten to a pulp.

“Are you not going to get them soon?” You ask curiously. He shrugs, staring dejectedly at the screen.

“I don’t know. My mommy doesn’t have any, and when I ask her if I’ll get them she says she doesn’t know. But I want them. I want to _fly_!” He grins at you and it’s infectious. There’s something so compelling about Jaemin that you find yourself mimicking whatever mood he’s in even if you’re not feeling it yourself. 

“That would be so cool,” you marvel. “But Iron Man can fly! Look-” you load into the game and select the said character before mashing buttons and bursting into the sky. “ _And_ , when I watched the superhero movie with my mommy, Iron Man _beat_ Thor. And Iron Man is just normal, like us!”

“No he’s not, he has a thing in his chest.” Jaemin sulks as you blast the enemies on screen.

“Well, Batman then!”

“He has money. I don’t.”

“Oh,” you run out of options and go silent in favour of losing yourself in the game. With the two of you playing, the level is over in a matter of minutes and you’re too busy looking at the rewards to realise Jaemin’s mood has changed. He hangs his head, fiddling at the buttons while glancing over at you nervously.

“Do you want to come over and play at mine sometime? I don’t have any video games but my aunt bought me a trampoline, so we can pretend we can fly.”

“ _Yes_ ,” you latch onto the idea immediately and Jaemin smiles, proud to have made you happy, his earlier worries forgotten. You abandon the video games and start planning what you’re going to do at Jaemin’s house and don’t stop until your dad appears, ready to drop Jaemin off home.

-

By the time you are thirteen you have been to Jaemin’s house more times than you can count. His mother becomes your second parent and is one of the kindest people you’ve ever met. She’s plagued by a constant cough and there are dark circles under her eyes from how early she has to get up to go to work, but you have never seen her without a smile on her face. It’s obvious that Jaemin takes after her.

As the two of you have grown older you have only grown closer to each other. Somewhere along the road Jaemin has had a growth spurt, meaning you can no longer wrestle his controller away from him when you play video games. Similarly you have grown into an even _more_ social butterfly, although the same cannot be said for your best friend. While you have thick skin and can endure the lighthearted teasing of your ‘normalness’, you know Jaemin takes every word to heart and it breaks your own to have to poke away the frown on his face.

By now the two of you are the only students to _not_ have some sort of ability. While it doesn’t impede you, you can tell this insecurity eats away at Jaemin from the inside out.

“Hey, Na!”

It’s a miserable day outside so you are spending lunchtime in the canteen. Though you’re in the lunch queue, a shout of Jaemin’s second name has your head whipping around.

There are a group of boys surrounding Jaemin. One of them obviously uses telekinesis, because he has Jaemin’s bag floating above his head while Jaemin stands there looking angrier than you’ve ever seen him, jaw set and fists clenched while the boys laugh around him.

“Hey!” You dart over to them angrily. “Give it back, Minjung. Don’t be a dick.”

Luckily the boys have enough respect for you to drop the bag, which lands heavily at Jaemin’s feet. Their laughing fades as they wander away with you trailing behind them to make sure they don’t decide to return. Once you’re satisfied, you turn back around to help Jaemin gather his things before ushering him to an empty table despite the fact you’ve missed your chance to get any food.

“Pricks,” you mutter darkly, narrowing your eyes at anyone that’s still gawking before checking up on your best friend. “Hey, you okay? Is your phone alright?”

“How can you be _friends_ with them?” Jaemin explodes suddenly, snatching his bag to his chest and glaring at you. You’re taken aback by the anger in his tone and duck your head, glancing around to make sure no-one is eavesdropping. The last thing you need is to make another spectacle.

“I-I’m not, Jaemin,” you say gently, trying to reassure him. He’s no longer looking at you, instead glaring out the window as if your face is the last thing he wants to see. “They’re not my friends. I hardly know them. They’re just idiots who think they’re funny. Don’t let them get to you.”

“How can I not,” he mutters, though there’s less bite than before. An inaudible sigh leaves your mouth at his persistence to carry on this conversation. “They’re all the same, thinking they can do what they like and prey on the innocent.”

You bite your lip. unsure of how to proceed. This is new territory for you and you don’t want to make your friend more upset than he already seems to be.

“They’re just people, Jae, and silly teenage boys at that. Just, don’t let them get to you, okay? We can tell the teachers if you want.”

“What’s the point?” he sighs, and in that breath, you can see the anger leave his body. Your shoulders relax in rhythm with his and you allow yourself to scoot a little closer to him so your shoulders are touching.

“Sorry for yelling,” he meets your eyes and you see the guilt in his own, practically overflowing in those brown orbs of his. It makes you soften and smile reassuringly to let him know you’re not mad.

“It’s fine,” you insist gently. “I can understand why you’d be upset. I just don’t want them to get to you because they’re not worth your anger.”

“They’re _definitely_ not worth it if it means I end up shouting at you,” he shakes his head and talks as if he’s making a resolve with himself, “I won’t yell at you again.”

-

A week later, Jaemin is sent to the principal for attacking another student.

At least that’s what everyone is saying.

"Mrs Na, it wasn’t like that,” you blabber frantically, matching her stride as she makes her way to the school office. Her eyes remind you of her son’s, so big and brown that it’s impossible not to see every emotion swirling inside them. You gnaw at your lip when you see them become glassy, wracking your brain to try and find a way to soothe her so she keeps her tears at bay.

Jaemin is not violent by nature.

“He didn’t mean to,” you trip over your words in desperation. “They were bullying him, Mrs Na, and he just snapped. I was there. I tried telling them. It’s not his fault.”

The scene replays in your head like a bad movie. One minute Jaemin’s bag was above his head and the teasing insults ran out like mockingbird calls, the next Jaemin lunged, bones cracked and blood spilt, and the jeers turned to screams.

Not even the teachers could pull Jaemin off. You hadn’t even tried; the ferality of the attack had rooted you in place.

Somehow, you know that you won’t forget that scene even fifty years from now. Even when you blink, the image of Jaemin’s fist hammering down and down is seared into the back of your mind.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Mrs Na detaches your hand from her arm and smiles down at you, although it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’ll sort it out. Wait here, darling.”

Then she’s gone, disappearing into the office and leaving you all alone in the corridor.

You wait.

And wait some more.

They come out an hour later. Mrs Na exits first, eyes red around the edges, and then Jaemin follows behind her. His head is downcast and he sticks close to his mother, meaning you don’t get a chance to talk to him. In fact, they brush right past you, but you can still see the bruising around his eye where Minjung had tried to defend himself, and when you glance down to his knuckles you can see the dried blood caked on them.

Medical hadn’t even cleaned him up.

The last thing you see before Jaemin disappears down the corridors is his ruffled uniform from where he had been grabbed. Then a teacher is calling for you, asking if you’ll write down a statement of what has happened.

Recalling the event is even worse. Half of you doesn’t want to bother writing the truth because you know no-one will take Jaemin’s side. But still, you spend almost two hours scrutinising over the details, writing everything out as honestly as you can. It’s like you’re writing a graded essay, except when you hand it in the teacher just glosses over it before dismissing you for the day and then sliding it into a pile.

You skip a lesson and huddle in the toilets on your phone, trying to get in contact your best friend. Jaemin doesn’t answer any of your texts or calls but that doesn’t stop you from trying again and again. When you hear the students outside moving to their next lesson, you finally give up on that plan and mix into the crowd, heading outside and over to the bike racks. No-one is managing the gate so you easily slip out, pedalling hard until you’re flying down the familiar route to his house.

Mrs Na has never been one to turn you away and it’s the same now. She opens the door wide and although you’re planning to rush straight to Jaemin, the hollowness of her cheeks and the hacking cough that overtakes her is enough for you to calm down and lead her into the kitchen.

You boil the kettle and make her a hot drink, feeling far too grown up and out of your depth as she takes a seat and stares into nothingness, not even attempting to offer you any food or drink like she normally does.

You are thirteen and currently taking care of someone else’s mother. Adulting does not suit you.

“Is Jaemin okay?” You ask tentatively, because it’s not your place to ask an _adult_ if they’re okay. Adults are always okay.

“He’s fine, darling,” she smiles thinly at you and accepts your hastily made cup of tea. Your own mother drinks it from time to time but with milk. You don’t know if Mrs Na likes milk in her tea, or if she even likes tea _at all_ for that matter, but when your sister had failed her driving test and was unconsolable your mother had fixed her some hot tea, so all you can do is watch anxiously as the older woman sips it tentatively.

“I worry about him, you know,” is what she says after she swallows, and all you can think is _oh, I am too young to be having this conversation._

Then your conscious says _man up, this is Na Jaemin’s family_ and you have to haul your big girl pants on.

“He’s just growing up,” you try to comfort her. “And those boys weren’t exactly nice to him, Mrs Na.”

“My poor boy,” she closes her eyes and you realise she’s holding back tears. “ _What are they doing to him_?”

The last part is said in a whisper and then she goes silent, trying to find composure but lapsing into another coughing fit instead. You stand there, fingers clawing at your jeans and feet aching from being locked in place. You’re unable to help. _Tea_ hasn’t helped. 

“It’ll be okay, Mrs Na,” you bite your lip and eye the door. “I’m going to check on Jaemin. But, um, if you need help-” you search around the room frantically, grabbing a pen and notepad and scribbling something down, “-this is my mom’s number. Just if you need some support or want to talk.”

She doesn’t say anything, eyes still closed, so you take your leave, heaving yourself up the stairs and making your way to Jaemin’s room.

You knock once but have no intention of waiting outside.

The door swings open.

Jaemin is curled up in bed, tapping away on his phone. The light is off so the screen glows blue against the darkness, reflecting onto his face and lighting up his black eye like a gruesome painting. He looks so different, so strange, that you find the light and let the warmth bleed into the room as quick as possible. The door creaks as you push it wider and his head whips up to look at you.

“Hi,” you whisper.

He smiles, but it is shaky. Then his lip wobbles.

You move quickly until you’re dropping onto the bed and Jaemin falls onto your shoulder and sobs silently. Tears stain your shirt and his arms hang limply at his sides while yours embrace him, pulling him closer and patting his back gently.

It’s easier to comfort Jaemin compared to Mrs Na, probably because you know Jaemin inside and out. Comforting him is like second nature, stopping his pain is as instinctual as breathing for you.

The both of you stay like that for a while, sitting in silence while you wait for Jaemin to stop crying. Once he does he unwinds himself from your embrace and wipes away his tears, wincing when he catches his bruise.

“Ouch,” you sympathise, and he throws you a small grin.

“Does it look bad?”

“A little,” you admit. “But it looks cool! You look like Scar, or- or Todoroki, or Zuko!”

He laughs at that. “Not helping, Y/N.”

“What, what do you want me to say? That you look badass?”

“I don’t know what I want you to say,” he drops his head, looking suddenly a lifetime older than the boy you had greeted this morning. The mood changes and you watch cautiously to see if any more tears are going to fall. There’s a sudden silence as he scrubs hastily at his eyes again and you chew on your bottom lip, bringing your knees to your chest and wrapping your arms around them.

_Catharsis_ , you think, remembering an obscure literature lesson your English teacher had once put you through. _The purging of emotions. Renewal and restoration._

“That was crazy, Jaemin.” You whisper. “You can’t go around hitting people, but I know it’s not fair that others can do that to you.”

“He didn’t even get a punishment.” Jaemin whispers, so quietly you can only just hear the words that leave his mouth. His eyes look hollow, haunted, and the tears don’t ease. “I got three days exclusion.”

“I’m sorry, Jaemin.” You let pain bleed through your voice. You don’t have to be strong with him like you were with Mrs Na, because Jaemin isn’t an adult. You are both just thirteen

You are thirteen, and you were not born equal.

“It’s not fair,” he murmurs, more to himself than you, although that doesn’t stop you from pressing him close again, resting his head on your shoulder and leaning your own atop his. You wish you’d left the lights off.

“I know, Jaemin,” you murmur, “I know.”

-

At sixteen it is time for you to grow up and get jobs.

Jaemin introduces the idea to you and you hate how your eyes flicker to his battered up converse instead of the bright smile on his face. He rarely smiles like that these days, and you want to treasure every second of it.

“A job?” You wrinkle your nose at the idea, closing your textbook and turning to look up him, once again becoming aware of how tall Jaemin’s become in the recent months.

Jaemin has grown up and he has grown well. You understand why some girls stop and stare in the hallways, although you’re never one of them. In some ways, your best friend has flourished, with a tall figure and killer smile that he only shows for you.

But with his newfound height, you’ve noticed that his jeans sit above his ankles and his faded hoodies are reaching their last stages of life. You don’t want to say it, but you know Jaemin has an ulterior motive besides earning some extra cash.

“Well,” you take him in from where he’s casually resting on one leg, hand clutching his backpack strap, “that sounds like a great idea.”

“It does?” He lights up even more and you delight in his happiness. “You think it’s a good idea?”

“Definitely!” You smile. “Any ideas on what you want to do? Shall I ask my parents if they know anywhere that’s hiring?”

“You could do,” he drops his bag on the ground and slides his long legs into the bench before sitting down opposite you. “I think I’m going to go around the shops and hand in my resume.”

“Sounds good,” you nod. “Some businesses like it if you go there in person. Shall I try as well?”

“Of course!” he nods eagerly, before swinging an arm around your neck and pulling you close, despite your protests. “It’s not fun if I’m searching by myself.”

So the two of you spend the rest of the day perfecting your resumes and then scouring online for job adverts. You’re supposed to be studying, but it’s nothing you can’t catch up on later, and besides, Jaemin is more important.

The job search is more for his sake than yours, but as days turn into weeks and you have to witness your friend come back after each interview dejected.

“What happened?” You ask one time when you meet up to walk to school together. Instead of his usual greeting, Jaemin is quiet as he begins to walk alongside you, a telltale sign that something is wrong.

“Same as always,” he scowls, kicking the ground as he walks. “They gave the job to someone who has an ability because they think they’ll do the job better.”

“Oh _no_ ,” you sigh out. “Seriously?! What’s the difference between you and the next guy when all you’re doing is moving boxes?”

“No idea,” he retorts. “I hate it. I _hate_ it.”

You can tell he’s about to go on a rant judging by the way his eyebrows knit together so you steer clear of the subject. You do that a lot nowadays.

Because of his foul mood you neglect to tell him of your own news that comes in the form of Lee Donghyuck. He’s been a student at your school for a while now but it’s only been in the past few days that you have actually talked with him.

You’ve been paired together for a science project.

Usually, you wouldn’t hesitate to share news like this with Jaemin, even if it was just in passing, but Donghyuck wasn’t just some normal classmate. Not only is he popular and well-known around the school, but he has powers; he can create illusions. You’ve never seen them for yourself but word has got around and you’ve never seen Donghyuck deny the allegations.

Another reason why you don’t want to tell Jaemin is because Donghyuck makes you laugh. Hard.

He’s funny, charismatic, and even though you haven’t known him long he’s wormed his way into your heart with a sort of nostalgic warmness. As if on cue, your phone buzzes and you hastily shove it into your pocket. The action feels dirty, guilty and you almost feel ashamed to hide it from Jaemin, but you’d rather Donghyuck be your little secret than face Jaemin’s wrath.

It wasn’t that you were _scared_ to tell your friend, it was just that you’d only ever been civil with people with powers for Jaemin’s sake. It wasn’t a secret that Jaemin was less than fond of those with abilities, given their past actions against him, but you hadn’t realised that somewhere along the way you had unintentionally picked up that habit as well. Nevertheless, Donghyuck was bringing you out of your shell and breaking you out of that routine, and you couldn’t exactly tell Jaemin you enjoyed being around someone with powers.

“I’m sure you’ll get a job soon,” you supply brightly, nudging Jaemin’s shoulder affectionately. “Just, try not to worry about it.”

Your phone buzzes again, and you slip a hand into your pocket to turn it off before returning your attention to Jaemin.

-

“What was that about yesterday?” Donghyuck leans back in the booth with one leg propped up and an elbow resting on his knee, leaning his head back and regarding you with raised eyebrows. You roll your eyes at his confidence.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You _do_ ,” you’re surprised to see the boy pout and his voice drop to almost a whine, but it brings an amused smile onto your face. He sees it and lights up, grinning at having been able to get a reaction out of you.

“I was busy that morning,” you defend nonchalantly. “And besides, can we talk about the project? Isn’t that what we’re here for?”

“I don’t know,” he sasses back, “is it?”

You scoff lightheartedly and raise your eyebrows. “So,” you begin to rise, “I can leave?”

“Hey-!” He leans forward and yanks you back into the booth. “I didn’t _say_ that.”

“ _Sure_ ,” you drag out your words teasingly and watch as the tips of his ears start to turn red. He covers it with a cough, adjusting his position and leaning over the table slightly.

“I just think we should get to know each other,” his gaze flickers back to you. “For the project.”

“You think?” You hum, pretending to ponder over his idea. “Okay, I’ll go first. Can you make people see things that aren’t real?”

Donghyuck’s posture slackens and he lets out a huff of air. “Of _course_ you’d ask that,” he huffs. “But yeah. I could make you see a dinosaur or a tornado outside, or I could make you think I was talking to you right now, when in actual fact I’m in another booth, watching you and laughing as you talk to yourself.”

“Wait,” it takes you a second to catch on to what he’s saying and then you’re staring at him in alarm. “Are you doing that right now?”

He grins, amusement dancing in his eyes. “No. I know you might think my power is weird and that I like to mess with people, but I’m not a monster. I’m not going to take away one of your senses for my amusement. My dad raised me better than that.”

“I didn’t think that,” you reply indignantly. “I was just curious! _So_ , you just make people see things?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “It’s inherited from my dad and he says it has something to do with warping people’s visual cortextes, but all I know is that I can come up with images in my head and project them, so that others think that it’s happening in real life- oh, and I have to be pretty close to them for it to work. But what about you? You don’t have any powers, right?”

“No, I’m just normal, I’m afraid.”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with that,” the sincerity in Donghyuck’s voice catches you off-guard, as well as the sense of relief you feel after hearing that statement. In that moment you realise that you don’t have to walk on thin ice around Donghyuck. You are free to say what you want and be who you want, without worrying about judgement or upsetting him. Ironically, you do not need to cast an illusion around Donghyuck.

“Thanks,” you perk up, smiling softly at him. He tilts his head at your sudden mood change but says nothing, holding his head in his palm and gazing up at you, “what do you want to know about me?”

-

“Why do you hang out with him?”

Jaemin shoots you a dirty look from across the table.

Your hopeful smile drops off your face.

“He’s a nice person, Jaemin, and he’s invited us both to his party.”

“ _Nice_?” Jaemin snorts and leans back in his chair. “Why would you think that? Has he cast an illusion on you or something?”

“Jaemin. _Don’t._ ” The threatening tone in your voice must let him know he’s crossed a line, because he sits up straighter and avoids your gaze, staring down at his phone.

You don’t have the energy to argue or fight with your friend. This is your first time mentioning Donghyuck and while you knew there would be resistance to the invitation on Jaemin’s end, you now realise there’s no point trying to persuade or beg him. He won’t listen.

“Are you coming or not?” You tap your foot impatiently and wait for him to reply.

“Why would I go to a party surrounded _and_ hosted by supers, Y/N?” He sighs out, back hitting the back of his chair as he looks up at you.

“Could you just do it for me, just this once?” You’re tired by his stubbornness but your words seem to hit resonate with him. He pauses mid-reply and you see that he’s mulling it over, debating the weight of your statement, and a small part of you believes that he’ll come. Though you want him to attent so he can have fun, a selfish part of you hopes he’ll agree because of _you_. Because _you_ asked him too.

“What’s so good about him?”

“Huh?”

“What’s so good about Lee Donghyuck?” Jaemin’s hands curl into fists as he lifts up his head and stares at you, his gaze burning. There’s something unsettling in the depth of his irises, something that makes your heart sink and mind advise: _tread lightly._

“He’s really friendly. Easy to get along with. We were just paired up togeth-”

“Does he have anything that I don’t?” To your horror, Jaemin gets louder, and you shrink back at the accusation in his tone. “Have you forgotten just how _crap_ our childhood was because of people like him, Y/N? _He’s not like us!_ We’re equals, and he would _never_ understand that.”

“Jaemin _please-_ ” you try to hush him, eyes blinking frantically to and from every other person in the library, trying to see if they can hear him. All the while your mind is racing, trying to understand the weight of Jaemin’s words.

_Do I even know this boy anymore?_

“Jaemin,” once you’re sure no-one is eavesdropping, you turn back to him and lower your voice, trying to soothe him. It doesn’t work. Instead, his eyes flash with annoyance and all you can do is drop down into the seat opposite him to try and narrow his outburst onto you only.

“You can’t ever compete with Donghyuck,” he grinds out. “You know that, right? You’ll never be enough-”

“ _Jaemin_ ,” you repeat again, firmer this time, and capture his gaze with your own. “Donghyuck is just a person, just like us. Strip everything away and he’s just a person. I- I know it’s hard for you, but I’m _begging_ you to just see others as they are. We’re all just people, all just flesh and blood. Besides, we don’t have to go to the party. I’m happy to stay at home with you.”

Judging by the way his hands squeeze around his phone, you know it’s not just about the party.

-

You’re surprised when Jaemin announces he’s not going to college. Probably because the two of you have never been separated, not even for a weekend. Something like pain ricochets around inside your chest as he delivers the news before settling uncomfortably in your heart, and all of a sudden you’re blinking rapidly and swallowing a lump in your throat.

“How am I supposed to survive without you?” You demand, gazing at him from where Jaemin sits on your bed. He’s engrossed in a video game so you storm over to block his view.

You _know_ you shouldn’t be angry at his choice not to go, but this time you can’t help but be selfish.

“I’m sorry. I just couldn’t afford it.”

“There were- there were scholarships!” You try again, adamant at finding a solution. “We could apply-”

“The applications for scholarships had to be in a week ago, Y/N. There’s no way I can go now.” He peers around you and continues mashing buttons while you fall silent, trying to find a loophole. When you can’t think of a response you give up and stare stoically at his bed frame, refusing to meet his gaze and getting so caught up inside your own head that you don’t realise your eyes are starting to water. But Jaemin does, and he pauses his game in order to scoot to the end of your bed until he can take your hands in his own.

“Look, we’ll still text, okay? And if you don’t reply, I’ll come and find you myself. Don’t think we’re not still going to be best friends.”

“Of course not!” You sober up and free one of your hands to swipe away at the tears. “Don’t you dare disappear on me. I want updates on what’s going on around here and on how your mother is doing too.”

“I promise,” Jaemin lips quirk up, evidently happy to have stopped your mini-breakdown. He looks around until he finds a spare controller and then holds it out for you. Upon taking it, he pulls you to sit next to him on the bed and the two of you sit shoulder to shoulder as you load into the game.

A part of you is worried, not for yourself but for him, because you’ve never seen Jaemin hang out with anyone but yourself before. But as you try to satiate your fears you realise you can’t come up with any proof that Jaemin will be okay. Nowadays you find him more caught up in himself, more lost than usual.

Sometimes, you wonder if the only thing keeping him grounded is you.

Other times, you wonder if eight-year-old you would recognise Na Jaemin now. But you never answer that question, too afraid of the answer to face it directly

But on days like these, when it’s just the two of you playing video games alone in his room, you can tackle him in a hug and he’ll whine and groan like he used to as a kid, trying to shake you off while secretly nuzzling into your hair, enjoying the affection.

“Get off, you idiot. You’re making me lose the level.” Jaemin complains, although when you pretend to let go he grips at you, holding you close so you’re still shoulder to shoulder.

-

On the day you finally leave there are lots of tears. Mainly from you, lots from Mrs Na and your parents, and quite a few from Jaemin himself. 

He hugs you until your bone cracks and won’t stop sniffing. A part of you wants to tease him but seeing as you too and sobbing, you’re in no position to.

“Call me everyday,” he tells you sternly, embracing you for probably the seventh time, hands coming up to ghost over the nape of your neck before settling there and pulling you closer. “Let me know everything that happens. You’re only a train ride away for me.”

“I will,” you promise, placing your head against your chest while your arms circle around his back, clinging onto the fabric of his hoodie tightly as if you’re afraid he’ll disappear once you let go. “Take care of yourself.”

Then he’s releasing you and you’re getting into the car, waving sadly to the Na family from the window as the car roars to life and separating from your best friend for the first time in your life.

You don’t ever mention to him that Donghyuck is going to the same college as you.

-

Away from home, you _flourish_.

Life opens up for you and you realise adulthood is not just giving advice and making tea. Adulthood is midnight drives and thumping music. Adulthood is all-nighters and stressful exams. Adulthood is drunken hookups and planned out dates.

You wonder what adulthood is like for Jaemin.

Donghyuck lifts your hand and presses a kiss there, snapping you out of your daydream.

“Is something bothering you?”

His voice is light but his gaze shows his concern. You can only dispel it with a reassuring smile, squeezing his hand while you two of you walk around the shops.

“I’m just thinking.”

“We’re on a _date_ , Y/N,” you giggle at his chastising tone. “At least think about _me_ if you’re going to zone out.”

“I think about you all the time,” you butter him up to soothe his ego, giggling more when his ears go red at such a direct compliment. “I’m just thinking about if we want to get some stuff to send to our families?”

You say family, but you mean Jaemin (is there a difference?).

You don’t see him as much as you’d like and when you text it’s nothing more than an obligatory catch-up message. The promises the two of you had made are now long forgotten. His social media is non-existent and you’re ashamed to admit you’ve divulged almost nothing about your personal life to him.

But it wasn’t like he would understand.

“That’s a good idea,” Donghyuck hums. “Maybe you can finally introduce me to your mom and dad?”

“ _Maybe,_ ” you tease, drawing out the word. “And i f it goes wrong you can just use an illusion or something, make them think you’re someone else.”

“ _Hey,_ ” Donghyuck narrows his eyes while you explode into laughter. “That’s not funny!”

He chases you down the sidewalk while you dance out of his reach, giggling at the frustrated expression on his face.

“I’m being serious, Y/N!”

-

It’s near midnight when you get the call that Mrs Na has died.

Though you had always known her health wasn’t the best, it still comes as a shock to you. Possibly because you’re so caught up in college life that your memories with her feel like nothing more than a dream, or maybe because you never expected it to happen. It’s the first death you’ve experienced and you’re unsure of how to feel.

But you know you need to go home.

“Call me as soon as you arrive, okay? I need to know you’re safe.” Donghyuck draws you in for a long hug instead of a goodbye kiss, prioritising your heightened emotions over his need for your affection before releasing you and smoothing out your coat, concern bleeding out into the action He just can’t let go of you.

“You sure I can’t come with you?”

“You need to ace that exam,” you tell him sadly, clutching your train ticket to your chest while running a thumb over his cheek, drinking in his appearance, the anchor that grounds you. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Don’t say stupid things.” Donghyuck grumbles, taking your palm in his and holding it against his cheek for a moment, before letting you go. Normally you would tease him for showing such obvious affection but you hardly have the heart to do it now, instead savouring your final moments with your boyfriend before you have to leave.

“I gotta go, Hyuck,” you whisper, and he nods once, releases your palm, and watches you enter the train.

There’s no-one in the carriage so you curl up, keeping your eyes on your boyfriend until he’s cut from view.

He’s gone.

She’s gone.

You curl up into a ball and press your eyes into your knees but it doesn’t stop the sobs. A brief part of you wonders if this is how Jaemin all those years ago, all alone in his room with the lights out.

_Jaemin_.

You cry harder.

_You’ll be home soon_.

-

Jaemin meets you at the train station. You almost don’t recognise him because he’s wrapped up in a black trench coat with a turtleneck underneath. He’s also taller than before, and his hair is blonde.

“Nice hair,” you choke out as soon as the two of you meet. He smiles bitterly, eyes roaming over you and taking you all in, and then you’re both hugging and crying. He buries his head in your shoulder and you clutch at his coat, sobbing your heart out on the platform in the early hours of the morning.

You stay by Jaemin’s side over the next few days, although there isn’t any time to catch up. The two of you have never been to, let alone organised a funeral before, so between that and your occasional crying sessions in Jaemin’s spare bedroom the days fly by and mix together at the same time. Every day also comes with a call from Donghyuck, which you only do in the evening so Jaemin doesn’t hear since he’s out working.

The guilt of hiding your relationship from your best friend only adds to your stress and sadness and you feel your heart constrict painfully every time Jaemin finds you crying and pulls you into his arms, trying to comfort you. 

_Now isn’t the time to tell him_ , you try to reassure yourself.

So you keep your mouth shut.

The funeral is scheduled for the end of the week. You’re surprised by how many people come to pay their respects. It’s evident that Mrs Na was a loved member of the community, although as you witness Jaemin, clad in a black suit and hovering at the back, you note how none of them speak to Jaemin.

You give a eulogy, trying your hardest not to choke up and instead share how Mrs Na made your world a better place. When you finish, you hurry away from the podium and drop down into the pew, next to Jaemin, who takes your hand and squeezes it tight.

-

Adulthood means taking care of those who need it.

Donghyuck checks in on you. You check in on Jaemin.

“You’re different.”

The sky outside cries while you stir your coffee. Rain lashes angrily at the windows, trying to break them down and reach inside for you.

You pay it no mind, blowing gently onto your steaming drink while Jaemin rests his head on his hand while he stirs his drink, looking strangely elegant with his beautiful face pulled down into a gentle frown. You muse that he could almost be an angel, with his delicate features and newly brightened hair. He’s changed, and so you tell him as such over a hot tea, trying not to let your tiredness show.

“How so?” He gives a small smile, moving from looking to his drink to gazing at you.

As he moves, the delicate illusion is broken. The gentle slope of his jawline tightens up into harsh edges and the melancholy look in his eyes fades to reveal his sharp gaze. When he smirks at you, he has no smile lines.

_What does adulthood mean for Jaemin?_

“Taller. Leaner. Older.” You list off in no particular order. _Attractive. Handsome. Dangerous._

That makes him huff out a laugh, a reluctant smile breaking out onto his face that he hides by taking a sip of his drink.

“It’s been a while,” he’s the first to admit. “I’ve been busy, but that’s no excuse for not talking with you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It takes two, after all.” You take a tentative drink of your tea and recoil when the hot liquid burns, setting it back onto the table. ”I’m just glad to see you’re doing okay.“

He sighs, shaking his head. "I am. I feel like I’m doing better. Getting a job, meeting people who I get along with-”

“Oh? You have a friend now?” You tease gently, smiling as he flicks his eyes up to glare at you.

“I’m glad to see your sense of humour hasn;t changed. But yeah, honestly, it feels like you and mom are the only two pieces of my old life I have left.”

“Oh?” You tilt your head slightly, trying to make sense of his statement. While you do so your eyes can’t help but mull him over. He sits straighter and his shoulders are no longer hunched over like they used to be in high school.

He’s comfortable. He’s flourished, but not in the same way as you.

He’s not a boy anymore.

“Yeah,” he grins and picks up his coffee. “Anyway, what about you?”

“Just college,” you shrug. “It’s hard but nothing crazy.”

The two of you catch up until it’s time for you to head back home. You’ve stayed long enough, caught up with your parents and sister, but now, selfishly, you long to get back to Donghyuck. It’s almost as if, back in your hometown, you lead two lives now. One which involves Jaemin, and one which involves Donghyuck. With those two lives comes two versions of you. Your teenage self would live in the life with Jaemin, where you were forever young and didn’t recognise the change your friend has gone through. But now you know home is where Donghyuck is, back in the city. As much as you try, you just can’t figure Jaemin out anymore.

At the station the two of you embrace tightly for the last time. More promises are made, of catching up and texting more often. Jaemin waves you off with the promise of seeing you soon, beaming brightly as you wave from the window.

You’re not sure you want to.

-

It’s a week later when Donghyuck calls you in tears.

It’s your first time ever hearing him cry and your heart _drops_. All you can think about is never hearing the sound again.

When he arrives at your apartment the sight of his tears is far worse, and all you can do is pull his close and comfort him as best you can. After trying to remedy your friend’s tears with hot tea you now know it doesn’t work so you just let him in and sit him down on the sofa.

Instead of trying to explain it to you, he turns on the television. 

The news channel flickers to life and it only takes you a second to realise that the reporter is standing in front of your high school. It’s the weekend so there are no students there and you frown as you try to figure out why the news would go there, if not for the kids.

“Just last night, two young men were subject to a brutal attack around this area. Both of the young men were alumni from this high school, although police have suggested there is hardly any correlation to the school and the attack. However, forensics have identified the cause of death as a stabbing due to the marks on the bodies, although additional wounds do suggest it may have started out as a robbery or an assault.

“As of now the culprit has still not been found. Reports can tell us that the crimes unit are still undecided as to whether this was a targeted attack or not, as both men had powers, but it seems unlikely given the rarity of those attacks. Both men were taken to hospital in the early hours of this morning but have sadly, not survived the attack.”

The screen fades to pictures of the victims, smiling broadly at some sort of festival, and it is then that you understand why Donghyuck is so upset. One of them was his childhood friend.

"I’m so sorry,” you hold him close, exhaling shakily, mind racing. Who would do such a thing?

Though it takes back a month, Donghyuck recovers, slowly but surely. Of course, the mental wound is still there, but at least you begin to see flickers of your old boyfriend coming back. During that time you have to stop watching the news because they now seem fixated on your hometown and the growing crime rate. It does nothing to help Donghyuck, either, and so your weekly phone calls to your mother turn into weekly updates on her safety. You _hate_ it.

A week before you’re scheduled to come back home for a reading week, an unfamiliar contact reaches out to you.

**Jaemin:  
** _You’re coming back home soon, right? Can we meet up?_

-

Jaemin has changed even more.

You realise that you have always held a certain amount of naivety in your views. For instance, you used to think that when people grew older, there would eventually be a point where they stopped _changing_ so much.

Today, that naivety is gone.

There are shadows on Jaemin’s face that weren’t there before as you enter the restaurant and meet him at his table. You had travelled alone since Donghyuck would be meeting you later on and you couldn’t say you weren’t glad to have Jaemin by your side as you walked to go and catch up over lunch.

“How have you been?” He opens up his arms and you hug him tightly, feeling unfamiliar muscle beneath your fingertips.

“I’m doing well, excited to be on a break” you grin before the two of you take your seats in the restaurant. The waitress hovers nearby, flashing you both a nervous smile as she hands over the menus. Jaemin browses through them while you flip through slowly, trying to decide what you want. “But how’s everything here?”

“What do you mean?” He tilts his head in an oddly endearing way and it reminds you of your childhood, how he would look up at you when he didn’t understand something.

“With the attacks and everything,” you lower your voice after surveying the room. “I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

Jaemin laughs, looking at you endearingly, as if you’d just suggested he be careful not to catch a cold when it’s not even raining. “I’m fine, Y/N. It’s not me you need to worry about.”

You laugh along with him, although an uneasy feeling settles inside of you at his choice of words. Nevertheless, you brush it off and go back to scouring the menu, asking him what he recommends.

Your lunch ends up lasting a few hours. Since you had already eaten a little after midday it was nearing the evening, meaning the sun was just starting to drift down behind the horizon. Though you’re not as familiar with the town layout as you were before leaving for college you still know your house is quite a walk away, so when Jaemin offers to walk back with you it’s a no brainer to accept. You just hope Donghyuck hasn’t arrived yet, although no messages have come up on your phone.

Without the sun to light up the sky the temperature has dropped slightly, causing you to wrap your coat around yourself and shove your hands deeper into your pockets. You don’t realise Jaemin has noticed until he’s taking his own coat off.

“Wear this.”

“Oh- no, I couldn’t!” You protest in alarm. “You’ll be freezing!”

“I’m fine with the cold,” he tosses it at you, watching expectantly, so you have no choice but to slip it on, smiling gratefully up at him.

“I don’t get how you’re so good with the cold.”

“Maybe it’s just different in the city,” Jaemin jokes, nudging you.

“It’s not _that_ different,” you roll your eyes and in the same moment the street lamps flicker to life, casting an orange glow onto the sidewalk. Like a moth to a flame you follow each lamp further and further with your eyes as they switch on one after another, so caught up in their rhythm that you almost miss the figure in the distance.

Or _figures_ , since there are more than one. You watch as the two figures wait for the third, who seems to be bending down to tie a shoelace or something similar. You stare on, bemused, until one of the figures steps forward and the one tying their shoes falls to the floor.

Jaemin wraps a hand around your shoulder and it’s only then that you realise you’ve stopped walking. But as he guides you along you can’t draw your gaze away.

Eventually, he notices your attention has been taken elsewhere. “What?”

“I saw something…” You blink slowly before coming to a halt. “Is someone getting attacked?”

Your voice rises up a pitch and it’s like as soon as you utter those words, the sight in front of you makes sense. The other figure steps forward and the one on the floor scoots back, trying to get to their feet. The first figure lunges violently and kicks them back to the floor.

“Let’s just leave it,” Jaemin tries to usher you along but you stand firm, so caught up in what you’re seeing that you don’t hear the urgency in his tone. He tugs at your sleeve as if he’s an impatient child but you’re hypnotised, even more so when you hear shouts. There’s something familiar about the movement of the victim, and when the cries of pain retaliate against the heckling shouts, you take off running.

You tear up the sidewalk like you’re running a sprint, adrenaline leaving your throat dry and heart racing. You vaguely hear Jaemin shouting behind you but it’s nothing more than white noise. Nothing can stop you as you launch yourself at the first attacker, catching the silver flash of metal before your fist makes contact with his face and he staggers back.

The air is hazy around you, the men flickering slightly and you realise that this is Donghyuck’s defence. Panic courses through you as the men seem to disappear, and then in the next second, you see furious eyes locked on you as the other lunges.

Except he never reaches you. Jaemin bursts into your field of vision with a knife of his own pointed at your attacker, who drops his own and raises his hands quicker than you can process. Reality still flickers around you but it’s clear the other man has stopped as well.

“Y/N,” Jaemin catches you by the upper arm as you whirl around and try to reach Donghyuck. One minute he’s there, the next he’s not, and you realise the illusion he was trying to cast was of him not being there.

“Y/N,” Jaemin snaps, and it meets your ears like a ringing bell. You tear your eyes off Donghyuck and turn to him, chest heaving with the adrenaline.

“What are you doing?” Jaemin’s dark eyes bore into yours and you stop, trying to figure out what he means.

You try to tug away but his grip holds firm.

One of the men behind him moves towards you.

“Renjun,” Jaemin’s eyes don’t leave yours. “We’re fine. Get the guy.”

“What?” You murmur faintly, giving a half-hearted tug that turns more frantic as you make sense of what’s happening. “You know him? Jaemin- let me _go!”_

“Why did you interfere?” He snaps angrily, pulling you closer, and from behind you, you hear Donghyuck groan. The man named Renjun surveys you cautiously before disappearing from your field of vision, heading over to where Donghyuck lies on the floor.

“Why would I?” You pull again. “Jaemin, why the fuck wouldn’t I help? What’s going on.”

“You know this scum?” Jaemin’s frown deepens as he jerks his head Donghyuck’s way. “Let’s just go, Y/N. Pretend you didn’t see anything.”

” _Pretend I didn’t see anything?_ “ You scream out in a burst of fury. It must have taken Jaemin by surprise because he releases you from his grasp and you’re able to stagger back. "That’s _Donghyuck_ , Jaemin! That’s my _boyfriend_.”

Jaemin stops and you see a range of emotions flicker across his face. Surprise. Confusion. Anger. _Rage_.

You don’t see anymore, instead choosing to turn around and race towards Donghyuck. Renjun doesn’t try to stop you, seemingly having ceased whatever he was going to do. 

Your shaking hands are extended outwards, ghosting around Donghyuck’s motionless frame when you are yanked back by the collar.

You yelp and struggle so hard that Jaemin’s coat flies off and drops to the floor, discarded. You turn around, ready to yell, but it’s Jaemin, and the look on his face has you shrinking back.

You realise at that moment that you don’t know Na Jaemin anymore.

“You know him?” Jaemin’s piercing gaze pins you down before he jerks his head in Donghyuck’s direction.

“He’s my boyfriend,” you grind out, “you knew him in high school.”

Jaemin draws, flinching as if you’ve just struck him, and you know he’s made the connection. The pain that ripples across his face evokes no empathy for you and instead you finally, finally, reach Donghyuck, dropping down onto your knees and checking to see he’s alive. When you feel his breath hit your cheek a wave of relief engulfs you, so intense that you can’t stop tears from welling up.

“This was you, wasn’t it?” You turn to glare up at Jaemin. He’s all but confirmed it with his actions, but you know you’ll never get the closure you need unless you hear him say it.

His face is blank, guarded as the two of you survey each other as if you’re only just meeting for the first time.

“You’re really dating him?” He murmurs. “You don’t remember what he is?”

“ _What he is_?” You repeat incredulously. “ _Jaemin_ , you need to stop this-”

“Stop what?” He scoffs, turning away and breaking eye contact. “Do you not remember how we were treated our whole lives, Y/N? Being teased, and bullied, and blamed, and _never treated fair_. How is this any different to how they treated us? We live in a world where it’s okay to ignore the ‘normal’ people. The system doesn’t care about us, when will you see that?”

“It’s you.” You storm into his field of view and force him to look at you. “You’re behind those attacks, aren’t you?”

“Attacks?” Jaemin rolls his eyes. “I’m trying to bring an equilibrium back into this world. Do you want other kids like us to have such a shitty life? To not be able to support their family? To _watch-_ ” he shouts, “- as their mother wastes away, knowing they can’t do _anything?_ That they can’t even get a _job_ to pay for her treatment? What, you think she died of old age or something, Y/N? _No-one_ understands what I went through, so _no-one_ understands what I have to do to make things right.”

“You had me!” You shout back, screaming right at him. “I would’ve done anything! I would’ve quit college to help you!”

“How could _you_ help, you can’t hurt a fly.” He turns away. “You’re even _dating_ one. Remember how I said my mother and you were the only things tying me to my old life,” he walks until he stands next to the unnamed man, with Renjun on the other side.

“Those days are over, Y/N. You should get out of here and stay out. You can take your pathetic excuse for a boyfriend with you because I considered you my friend, but if you can’t understand where I’m coming from and why I’m doing this, then I never want to see you again.“

"Jaemin,” your voice cracks as he turns his back to you, but he doesn’t react. With a flick of his wrist the two men follow him into the night, leaving you behind without so much as a glance.

Donghyuck groans, snapping you out of your shock with the first sign he’s conscious, he’s and you turn around to attend to him.

-

The television is like static in the background, the volume too low to be heard over the downpour outside. The dark clouds cast a grey veil over the city and you don’t have the heart to find the remote and raise the volume. You’re not that interested in the news, anyway.

Donghyuck stands in the kitchen, peeking into the oven. The light from inside casts a golden glow onto his face, making him seem so angelic that you can’t help but bite down on your lip to stop a smile, because you know he’s far from an angel. Nevertheless, you get up and head to the kitchen, joining him in staring at the half-risen pizza he’s trying to make.

“Try upping up the heat,” you place a hand on his shoulder, casting a glance back to the television to see if anything interesting has just appeared on the screen. It hasn’t. “And stop opening the door. You’re letting the air out.”

“It’ll be fine,” he grins at you but catches you mid-distraction, following your gaze to the television. Then he moves closer to you, sliding an arm around your shoulder and pressing a kiss there.

“Stop looking at the news,” he murmurs, gently grasping your chin and turning your head away.

“I just can’t believe it,” you whisper, looking away from his face so he doesn’t see the tears building up in your eyes. Three years later and you still blame yourself. For what happened to your boyfriend and your best friend. Or _ex-_ best friend, as it should be now.

“Try not to think about it,” Donghyuck steps closer and pulls you close, embracing you. “You did the right thing.”

“What if he finds out that I told them?” You murmur. “What if we have to go into witness protection or something.”

"We won’t,” he soothes. “I can promise you, we’ll be okay. We have for two years now. And honestly,” he taps your lips chastising, eyes fixed on them before they flicker playfully up to meet yours, “I don’t see why you’re worrying when you’ve got _me_ -” that draws a muffled giggle out of you.

“You’re sure he won’t go for our parents? I don’t want to talk about it with my mom, but you know her, she worries.”

“He’s never gone after anyone without powers before, you know that. And my parents are protected by the government, so they’ll be fine.”

“Right,” you force a strained smile and pull Donghyuck in for a hug. “Thank you.”

But as much as you pretend to be for his sake, you’re not satisfied with his answer. Because nowhere is safe.

Not even the big cities, where you’d grown so used to life being there in abundance. People swarming the streets and nightlife so vast you swore it was daytime. But now that was gone, and your world seems perpetually grey.

-

It always rains in your hometown now.

You know that realistically, it’s because it’s the wet season, but a part of you likes to believe that the sky shares your pain. It’s idiotic, but it brings you some semblance of comfort to see the world is as upset as you are.

The deeper you get into the town the more the rain eases off, giving you a view of the outside world even though you should be focusing on the road. Because it’s winter it means it’s getting darker earlier, so it’s no surprise to see cops out on the street. After all, you’ve already passed at least three patrol cars on the way to your hometown.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glance of two girls being escorted into a car, no doubt for their protection.

You had grown up on these streets, but now they were as unrecognisable as a stranger.

Your car stops in the middle of a puddle, meaning you have to use your umbrella as a vaulting pole to leap over it if you want to keep your shoes from getting wet. Once you’re on dry land and your umbrella is in use you can lock the car and smooth down your clothes: black slacks and a black coat. It’s your work attire but you hadn’t had time to change and you thought they would be considered appropriate attire for this event.

In your other hand (that isn’t holding the umbrella), you hold the bundle of flowers closer to you as if to protect them further from the rain.

Mud squelches beneath your feet and your heels sink into the grass but you manage to make your way across the land, surveying the field of grey before coming to rest in front of a familiar space.

You bend down, adjust your umbrella, and place the flowers on Mrs Na’s grave.

When you were younger, you forced yourself to speak words of comfort. Finally, you’ve realised that adulting is more than just empty words.

So you say nothing, closing your eyes and bowing your head, letting vivid images of the woman you had once seen as your second mother flood into your head. Every memory is singed with pain, reduced to ash given the time that has passed, and even though you are doing this in your mind the start of an apology forms on your lips.

_I’m sorry I couldn’t protect him. From this world, and from himself._

Then you open your eyes and allow yourself one single inhale, before turning around and starting to head back to your car.

He stands underneath a wide oak tree.

Like you, he is dressed in black from head to toe. His thick black boots crush the mud under his feet and his figure is obscured by a black trench coat, too pigmented for you to make out his full body shape. On his head is a sleek baseball cap, and on his face is a black mask that covers everything but his eyes from view.

But his eyes meet yours. And time stops.

Suddenly you are eight years old, and you have met Na Jaemin for the first time.

Both of you stare at each other in wonder and for a split second, there is hope. His eyes still hold the world in them.

You exhale softly, and realise his eyes hold a world you cannot ever be a part of.

Then he turns, lowering his head and disappearing behind the tree trunk. You stare at the spot where he has just been for a few seconds, and then lower your umbrella so that area is obscured from your view.

You have things to do. Donghyuck is at home, cooking again, and you need to get back before he blows up the kitchen. You don’t have time to dwell on something that can never be, and someone you cannot have.

People are not born equal.

Na Jaemin has shown you there is no such thing as equilibrium.

-


End file.
